Seven Reasons
by thereichenbachpen
Summary: Ron breaks into Hogwarts Castle during Hermione's Seventh Year at school, desperate to ask her a question. Hermione Granger deserved a man that truly loved her and Ron was going to make sure she knew he was that man, proving his love with seven sincere reasons... very fluffy and simple :) Spoilers for all books/movies. I apologize for spelling/grammar errors, etc.
1. Chapter 1

"This is bloody mental, Harry," Ron said, lacing up his trainers with trembling fingers and altogether too much force. "What if we're caught?"

"You're kidding," Harry said dryly, polishing his glasses with the hem of his sweatshirt is the thin moonlight. They stood together in a field, the brownish weeds almost thigh-height and swaying in the easy breeze that ruffled over their clothes. To any person of non magical blood, it would appear that the two boys (nearly men) were standing on the verge of a field belonging to an abandoned building, surrounding haphazardly with danger signs. "We broke into the Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic- twice. And got away with it. We're going to be fine."

"Yeah, but that was slightly less dangerous," he countered as Harry replaced his glasses. "She could murder us—both of us. You know that don't you?"

"No, she'd only murder _you._ But she won't, so calm down."

Shooting Harry a look, he began to tie his other sneaker, but pulled too hard and snapped the already frayed laces. Harry flicked his wand lazily, repairing the shoe and tying it in one.

"Stop stalling."

"I'm _not_ stalling," Ron shot. "And stop smirking. This is serious."

"Oh, yeah, very serious," Harry nodded sarcastically.

"I could _die._ You realize this don't you?"

"You're going to be fine, Ron. Are you ready?"

"Guess so," Ron muttered, pacing off a few yards and bending to retrieve the gleaming rod of a broom, marked brightly even in the cover of night as a _Firebolt XP900_ in scrawling silver letters.

Mounting his broom, a slightly more modest, black-handled make with no apparent label, Harry kicked off the ground just as Ron did. For a moment, they hovered, sharing one earnest nod before speeding off over the grounds. Below them, the forbidden forest rose up from the east, the tops of the pine trees huddled so close you couldn't see to the forest floor below. Sprawled out on the far side, just the hint of a silhouette suggested itself on the outline of the rolling landscape, where they knew Hagrid's hut was settled in the hills, bunched in on all sides by pumpkins only normal sized in comparison to the half-giants who lived there.

The great black form of the castle, lit warmly with glowing windows that housed flickering candlelight, rose up in front of them, the moon a pale half scoop in the cloudy sky behind it. The smell of water and earth rose up on the light wind and Harry smiled, pressing forward into the wind, even closing his eyes to let the feeling wash over him. He loved coming back home.

While Harry reveled, even deigning to dip low when they came to the Quittage pitch, swooping upside down through the keeper's hoop, Ron stayed on a steady path, mouth clamped down hard to keep down the light dinner Harry had forced him to eat earlier. The Gryffindor dormitories were a set of towers leaning into each other, stacking steadily upward into the inky night. As they neared, the two flew as a pair again, circling around to the eighth year boys' room.

This slightly higher, smallish dormitory was a fairly new addiction. Until this year, Hogwarts had only offered seven years of education. However, for those that had been unable to attend school or had felt that they had not received proper tutelage under the teaching methods of death eaters, Hogwarts had offered an extra year. There would only be one student living there this time of year, Ron knew as he leaned forward on his broom, slowly lowering to look in through the window.

Neville was still awake—or mostly so. He saw reclined in a large easy chair by a generous fire, a fat textbook propped in the crook of his elbow, a half-eaten roll of bread in the other, his eyes half-closed. He jumped when Harry tapped on the window, making both the boys grin. Setting down his book, he ran to the window, floppy evening slippers falling off his feet with each step.

Pushing the window open, Neville greeted them with a surprised, but eager smile, "What are you guys doing here?"

"Ron's here on some important business," Harry smiled, sliding easily through the window and then leaping off his broom onto the bed. Ron followed, less gracefully so and remained hovering on his Firebolt. "Fancy going to Hagrid's for a bit with me, Neville?"

"I'd love to, but exams have me absolutely frantic and—"

"You need the break. Perfect," Harry finished for him and Neville gave in with a bit of a smile. "You'll borrow Ron's broom.

"Harry, wait, I don't think I can do this," Ron said suddenly, remembering to get off his broom at last. Neville mounted it eagerly, running his hands admiringly over the smooth wood. "What… what if she…"

"She won't. Just… get up the grit and do it. You just have to get it over with," Harry grimaced with a hand on his shoulder. "No matter what happens, I'll meet you back here later. Send a patronus to Hagrid's when you're done." Ron nodded, not trusting his stomach to stay contained if he opened his mouth. Harry grinned at him, "Good luck, mate." They hugged briefly and Neville shook Ron's hand, understanding the gravity of the situation, if not the details.

Ron waited until Harry and Neville were too far away to see in the night before turning away from the window. His stomach felt like it was at war with his heartbeat, deciding that it would like a turn at pumping for a change and making him altogether queasy. The reflection in Neville's full length, bronze edged mirror told him he looked a pale as he felt. Closing his eyes, Ron steeled himself. The only alternative to this was not going through with it and that he couldn't live with.

His mind was made up, of course. He had to do this and it couldn't wait any longer. When he opened his eyes again, he was encouraged to see some of the color returned to his freckled face. Turning away from the mirror and opening the door, Ron stepped into the small stair well.

Now, all he had to do was figure out how to get into the girl's common room without getting caught.

Coming down the last set of stairs, paused before heading into the common room. From underneath his shirt, he tugged out Harry's invisibility cloak, as flawless as the first day they'd unwrapped it so eagerly together, awed by its abilities that Christmas morning that felt so long ago. Smiling a bit, Ron draped it over his shoulders and stepped into the low-burning firelight of the common room. A few sleepy studiers were lounged in the burgundy chairs or seated half asleep at the mahogany tables crammed in the corner, under the drooping angles of the many scarlet banners that were hung throughout the room.

Resisting the urge to prank a few of the more familiar people in the room, Ron turned the corner to the girls' stairwell. Silently, he cast _Silencio_ and touched his foot to the bottom step, sending the stairs down into a slide—it did this whenever a boy tried to enter the girls' dormitories. Ron had learned this from painful experience. Casting another spell, again silently, to connect a rope to the topmost section of the banister, Ron began to climb. It was easier than he had anticipated and wondered if the stairs somehow knew that his intentions were only good. When at last he made it to the top, he retracted the rope back into thin air and prayed the stairs would correct themselves.

Hermione's room would be the one at the very top—she, like Neville, had the privilege of having a room all to themselves. _Alohomora_ and he was in her room. It was dark, mostly, her fire in the hearth so low that the coals struggled to give off any light at all. He could make out her steadily breathing form on the bed, covered from head to toe in, thick, maroon blankets. Ron grinned from under the cloak. He had found out during the time that they were travelling together a year ago, that Hermione slept with the blankets completely consuming her, making a little room only for fresh air to make its way under the covers. He had also found out that _bloody hell_ she was beautiful while she slept. Her always expressive eyebrows were finally at peace while she slept, lips parted slightly. Thoughts of that terrible time last year, gave him pause. Like he and Harry did, Hermione suffered from the nightmares that brought back memories of that dark time. He didn't want to scare her.

Dropped the cloak quietly to the floor, he went to sit on the edge of her bed, gently pulling back the covers to see her as she slept. Her hands, pressed together, were tucked under her cheek with her hair fallen softly all around her face. Her thick eyelashes flutter a bit and Ron's heart doubled time in anticipation of seeing her eyes. He hadn't seen her since the goodbye at King's Cross, when she had been half way upset with him for not returning to school with her, but he had known he would only have been a distraction.

Now, how was he to go about this without frightening her? With sudden inspiration, he dug his diluminator out of his pocket and clicked it, sending a warm, low glow of light up into the middle of the room, where it hung, having no light fixture to fill. Then, ever so gently, he leaned down to her ear, whispering gently, "Hermione, it's me- It's Ron," Before leaning forward and placing his lips on hers, feather light and only for the briefest moment.

"Ron?" she asked, sitting up sleepily, confusion marking her expression. "What are you doing here?"

"Come with me," he whispered shakily, taking her hand. "There are some things I want to show you."

 _Author's Note:_

 _Hello Readers! I do not usually leave notes, but I am setting up this fic slightly differently than others I have posted and need your opinion. I am in the process of writing two stories currently- both a Hermione/Ron fic (this one) and a Hermione/Draco fic. Please let me know what you think of this story so far and, if you have time, check out my Draco/Hermione fic titled "Amortentia" as well. Let me know in the comments which one you are more interested by and I'll make it my priority to update that story. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this :)_


	2. Chapter 2

The First Reason

Ron picked up both of Hermione's hands, running his thumbs gently over the top of her knuckles. "It's a little cold out there," he mused and then, letting go, strode across the room and picked up a thick blanket that had been lying discarded on the floor beside the fireplace. It was deliciously warm in his fingers as he draped it around Hermione's small frame, fastening it beneath her chin. She smiled her thanks, still groggy. "You ready?" he asked, his voice breaking a bit.

"Ron, where are we going?" she asked, waking a little as he began to pull her toward the door. "I have exams tomorrow," she protested a bit, but still allowed him to pull her along toward the doorway."

He paused with his hand on the door. "I promise you'll still get plenty of sleep. It's just… there are some very important things I want to show you tonight. Is-" he cleared his throat, "is that okay? Won't you come with me, 'Mione?" His face was warm with the low light in the room and the infusion of heat on his cheeks from the flush that had settled there. His blue eyes were earnest, but nervous and Hermione's own eyes reflected a smile.

She shook her head, but grinned, a few stray hairs coming lose around her temples and forehead. "I don't know what you have planned, Ronald Weasley, but so help me, if you get me expelled, I'll never forgive you."

"I make no promises," he chuckled, opening the door and leading them out into the hall. With a deep breath, Ron took the invisibility cloak and dropped it over both of them, the light material silky on their faces. Ron stooped down, so much taller than her, and touched her cheek gently, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, and then leaning down to whisper to her. "Just follow me, okay?"

She nodded, grabbing his hand in hers and meshing their fingers, a curious smile on her face. They descended slowly into the common room, down the girls' stairs, which had righted themselves. Not as many stragglers still remained by the fire, but one or two sleepy heads still nodded in the plush chairs.

Ginny Weasley lounged in the loveseat nearest the hearth, her fiery red hair draped carelessly about the arm of the couch. Pausing, Ron pulled up the edge of the cloak slightly and, with careful aim, tossed a small package onto her lap. She stirred slightly, but didn't move. Hermione gave Ron a disapproving look until he shook his head and mouthed, 'From Harry.'

Treading carefully, the pair stepped carefully outside the portrait hole. With a gentle squeeze, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand tighter and they ran quietly down the corridor. A few of the portraits stirred grumpily from their dozing, but their invisibility cloak kept them from any real scolding. When they reached the staircase, Ron threw off the cloak, handing it to Hermione while he dug around in his pockets, pulling out the marauder's map and squinting at it. "I think we're safe," he whispered in the echoey quiet. Their steps rang out on the stone as they hurried down the stairs, spiraling down toward the Great Hall. Curious and befuddled, Hermione let Ron lead her hurriedly through the corridors until finally they came to a single door in the castle wall.

"The girls lavatory?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

Grinning stupidly, Ron pushed the door open, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on. Just trust me."

Leaning her head in through the door, Hermione hesitated, pulling her blanket more securely around her shoulders in the drafty bathroom. Nothing of significance stood out to her inspection, except Ron, who stood in the middle of the room looking pleased with himself, if a little nervous. The sinks were lined up as usual against the wall, glinting in the thin moonlight from the windows above and the firelight of several torches that had magically ignited themselves upon their entry. The bathroom stalls stood empty, reflected in the few mirrors that hung above the sinks.

"Ron what is this?' Hermione asked, a little grumpy as she stepped a little further into the bathroom.

"Let me show you," he insisted, walking carefully to her. Taking a hold of Hermione by her elbows, Ron pulled her into the room, leading her toward the sinks. "Here—stand right here," he said, adjusting her a little so her shoulders angled toward the door. "Now stay," he commanded, backing up to stand a few yards off from her. He grinned, as if expecting her to understand.

"What am I looking at?" she said, trying not to smile at the expression of pure satisfaction on his face.

"Don't you see?" he questioned excitedly, his hands raised and gesturing all around the tiled room. "This is where we fought the troll first year. Don't you remember?"

Hermione looked around—compared to all their many adventures, she had almost forgotten about their terrifying fight against the troll when they were only eleven. "I remember, but-" she started, but Ron interrupted, striding toward her and taking her hands in his. His eyes locked on hers, Ron pushed her gently backward until she bumped into one of the sinks. Taking her by the waist, he lifted her gently so that she sat on the rim of it, her back pressed against the mirror. Hermione's breathing hitched in her throat at the intensity of his gaze.

His eyes sparkled as he spoke, looking up into her eyes. "See, it's important that you remember this. I remember it. I always will… Because it was right here," he pulsed his hands around hers, "that I knew I wanted to have your friendship my whole life. I didn't know any other girl who was smarter, or braver, or more loyal. I remember wondering—before—why you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw. In that moment, though, I understood why the sorting hat had put you in Gryffindor. And I was really glad that it did because then it was even easier to be your friend." By the end of this speech, his smile had faded into a soft look, his eyes searching hers.

Hermione's eyes shone brightly. "Ron, I don't know what to say," she whispered.

He only shook his head. "Don't say anything. I just wanted you to know that I found out early on how brave you are—and how loyal you are to your friends… how much of a true Gryffindor you are." He kissed her hand against his lips, "And that, Hermione Granger, is the first reason why I love you."

Ron could almost see her pulse jump in her throat as she flushed from her neck upward. Before she could answer or give into the impulse to lean down and kiss him, Ron took hold of her hands and helped her to jump down from her perch. "Don't say a thing," he warned, dimples showing. "We have a lot more to see tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

The Second Reason

The portraits were complaining now. Even under the invisibility cloak, Hermione couldn't keep stifling laughs with her free hand, the other clutched to the back of Ron's shirt. They ran together, feet slapping in time against the floor. By the time they'd made it to their next stop, both were out of breath leaning against the wall of the corridor. Ron dropped his hand down to take Hermione's in his and then, looked down, as if not noticing that he had done it.

She watched as his eyes traveled up from her hand to her lips, lingering there, before darting up to her eyes. He smiled, almost sheepishly, before turning toward her and taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb. He leaned in impossibly closely, so that there lips were all but touching. For a moment they breathed, even faster than they had a moment before. Hermione's eyes flicked from Ron's eyes, transfixed on hers, to his lips that were so close.

He smiled a bit, lifting one side of his mouth affectionately at her eagerness. His lips finally touched her, but just to the left of her mouth, and then gently on her cheek before resting against her ear.

"We can't make a sound in here, okay?" he warned.

Attempting to ward off the butterflies pounding against the walls of her stomach, she nodded, allowing Ron to pull her forward into the next room. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion when they walked into the Hospital Wing. The white beds were made neatly, their sheets drawn tightly, firm pillows at each of their heads. The large windows at the end of the room framed the starry night outside, where fog interlaced the deep blues and blacks in wisps against the moonlight.

Ron came to a stop in the middle of the room, ducking out from beneath the cloak, but motioning for Hermione to stay. He strode a across the room carefully, his head ducked a little, as if listening. When he reached Madam Pomfrey's office door, he removed his wand and swished it once and then again.

"There," he said loudly, making Hermione jump after the strained silence—she was glad for the cloak as her face turned bright red. "Silencing spell…" he trailed off, looking about. "Where are you?" he asked, having walked back to the place where he had been standing. He put his arms out to embrace her—nothing. "'Mione?" he asked, his voice breaking a bit. "This isn't funny-"

Two slender arms caught Ron from behind and he let out something of a strangled yelp. Hermione dropped the cloak and laughed heartily, falling back onto one of the many beds. Her breath came in gasps as he stood looking grumpily at her, a half smile trying to remain hidden in his expression.

Finally he just shook his head and sat down beside her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Think that's funny, do you?" She nodded, still trying to regain her composure. "Well then," he said, pushing her shoulder firmly so that she lay back against the bed. The comedy of the situation fled suddenly as Ron lay down beside her, his hands pressed into the bed on either side of her shoulders. She closed her eyes as he leaned down, grazing his nose against hers. Her heart galloped in her chest and she went very still as he leaned down to her ear, breathing lightly so that the feeling sent goosebumps all over her body.

He kissed her earlobe, coaxing a little squeak from her throat as her eyes flew open. He laughed, a deep, low sound, barely louder than a breath. "Do you know, Hermione Granger, that you're lying exactly where you were when I realized just how much I cared for you?" He let his lips fall again, kissing her temple gently and then sliding his nose gently upward into her hair, taking in a full breath. "Maybe I didn't know—yet—the extent of how much I cared for you… but I knew that you were one of the most important people in my life—right here. When you were petrified in second year, 'Mione, it was the scariest thing I had ever witnessed. To see my best friend like that?" he kissed the top of her forehead, "I couldn't handle it. I would rather have fought hundreds of Aragog's young than have you in this state a second longer. I realized, right here, that I would do anything for you because you meant so much to me."

"Ronald," Hermione breathed, reaching her hands up to loop around his neck. For a moment, she simply stared up into his eyes, but then she tugged him down, pressing her lips against his. She sighed and pulled him close, eager to deepen the kiss. He kissed her back passionately, but let up all too soon, something of a laugh in his eyes.

"Come on," he said, getting up and offering his hand. She hesitated, wanting to say something in return—longing for another kiss. Grinning, Ron saw right through her hesitation and pulled her up to stand beside him, capturing her lips with his firmly, but only for a moment. He took both her hands, leading her toward the door with just the ghost of a smirk. "We best hurry—exams tomorrow, right?"

"Right," she echoed, giving in to the pull of his hands as they hurried out into the castle corridors again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: I apologize in advance for any spelling errors, etc. Enjoy :)**

The Third Reason

"Ron, I haven't got my shoes on," Hermione protested as they stood at the edge of the open castle door. The night sky had cleared a bit and the stars shone down brightly from above, twinkly in lazy repose up in the purple-blue heavens. The night air smelled like damp grass and that distinct scent of darkness that has no name. The air was rich as it swelled around them, ruffling their cloaks around their bodies.

Ron's excitement wasn't even slightly dissuaded by Hermione's expression as she eyed the wet grass. "It isn't far, 'Mione, promise. Just come on," he urged stepping out onto the grass.

Hermione bit her lip, stepping out onto thick turf. The grass was cold between her bare toes. She would have summoned her shoes, but thought that a pair of trainers whipping through the common room might startle some of the others and begin a search of her whereabouts. The Gryffindor that she was, she wasn't about to give up and so followed Ron a bit down the path. About five yards in, her toe caught on a rock and she breathed in sharply, more surprised than injured.

Already slightly agitated by her slowness, Ron didn't hesitate to ask before he swept Hermione up into his arms, still walking at his full stride. With a startled scream, she covered her mouth as she felt her feet leave the earth. About to protest, Hermione looked sharply at Ron, but found his focus entirely ahead of him. With a reluctant smile, she settled down into his arms, letting the lovely warmth envelop her. His arms were firm and strong, thick from his practice as a Keeper and with her head nestled down beneath his chin, she could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, slower than she had anticipated at such a brisk pace and with her as an extra burden.

Hermione had become almost comfortable enough to sleep when Ron came to an abrupt halt. Smiling crookedly down at her, he rocked gently on the spot. "Don't fall asleep just yet. Here," he said, setting her down gently, you can stand on my feet for a moment. Just wrap your arms about me," he instructed and, her toes balanced carefully on the tops of his shoes, Hermione did as she was told, pressing into him with her arms encircling his waist. She could hear the deep rumbling of his low voice as he drew his wand and spoke the spell, " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Only at the sound of the spell did Hermione look around, surprised by their location. The Whomping Willow's form stood outlined in the darkness. She watched as a twig that Ron had enchanted sped toward the tree, pressing against a knot there that opened an entry in its trunk. Ron stooped to pick up her up again, but paused, her lips suddenly in close proximity with his. They shared a breath, Hermione's eyes beginning to flutter closed, but he let the moment pass with a smirk, pulling her up into his arms.

Climbing through the tunnel was a bit of a hassle, but they made it through quickly, standing up together in the dusty bottom floor of the shrieking shack. In the half-light, Ron meshed his fingers with Hermione's, turning toward the stairs and climbing them slowly. Even though they now understood the reasons behind the shrieking shack's rumors of being haunted, the place was still heavy with an aura of darkness and mystery. The steps creaked beneath their feet as they climbed, finally coming up into the dusty room where they had discovered so many years ago that Sirius Black was innocent and that Ron's rat had turned out to be a man. Ron's attention though was focused toward the back of the room.

" _Lumos,"_ he murmured, walking across the dusty room and sending the particles swirling around his feet. Taking a deep breath, he reached for Hermione's hands and she walked to him, smiling lightly.

He squeezed her hands, his breath shallow, "This one's a bit… well, it's a bit embarrassing actually," he admitted, color rising in his cheeks. "See, it was when we were in here during Third Year… that I realized how much I liked you."

"Ron," Hermione laughed, her own cheeks burning a bit with color. "You didn't even know I was a _girl_ yet."

"Just proves that I like you for you, doesn't it?" Ron countered, but his eyes were soft. "Nah, Hermione. I still thought you were beautiful. And I didn't think there'd be a chance that you could ever be mine." He didn't say it out loud, but both of their minds strayed to Ron's battle with the locket and how he'd thought that Harry and Hermione deserved each other.

"Well," Hermione said, finding his eyes. "I'm yours now."

"Thank Merlin for that," Ron said, grinning and tugging her into his arms, lips crashing against hers in something of a victory. They parted breathlessly, but Ron still held her close. "But it was right here—when I was afraid I'd lose you that I realized you were much, _much_ more than a friend to me." He looked down for a moment, collecting himself, "This was the first place that I wanted to hold your hand—or—or kiss your cheek. I wanted to do something to let you know… how I felt. But I didn't—why I was sorted into Gryffindor I'll never understand."

"We were just kids, Ron," Hermione smiled. "And you were plenty brave. We were just too young, is all. It's good we waited. I love our story."

"So much could have gone wrong though. Oh- not that I don't love that I finally plucked up the courage to ask you out," he spluttered quickly, explaining himself. "And I love our story too. But… it took me so long to realize how much you meant to me… and there were so many opportunities for me to tell you—any other guy might've…" he looked stricken as he squeezed Hermione's hands tighter.

She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently, "But they didn't, Ron."

"All I'm saying," he said, finally collecting his thoughts, "is that I'm bloody lucky. There is far too much that could've gone wrong. I wasted so much time. And I won't be wasting anymore of it." And with that, the two of them raced back down the stairs and into the night once more.

 **Reviews = Encouragement**


	5. Chapter 5

**As always, I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors. Enjoy! :)**

Reason Four

"Dumbledore," Ron muttered the password softly and the stairs up to the headmaster's old office began to spiral upwards. Hermione drifted sleepily on his shoulder, clutching both of her arms around his, as they stood beneath the cloak together. Even though she felt apprehensive about visiting the headmaster's quarters, she didn't argue. The night was so magical—so beautiful—a memory in the making- that she dared not disturb its path. Ron pulled her tight to his side as they began to climb the stairs.

Professor McGonagall hadn't had the heart to take over Dumbledore's study completely—she still spent the bulk of her time there, overseeing the school, but found that she couldn't change the layout that Dumbledore had first arranged in the circular room. So there, against the far wall, still sat the large, handsome desk, the pensive in the corner, and the many paintings of past headmasters and headmistresses on the wall, whom currently slept soundly in their frames, the occasional snore escaping one or another's painted lips.

Hermione's eyes, more alert now that they had reached the room, flicked around, nervously eyeing the windows as if anyone could see them beneath the cloak. Ron squeezed her hand reassuringly. Drawing his wand, he sent a silencing spell toward the door and then, checking the marauder's map briefly, lifted the cloak from over our heads.

"Come here, 'Mione," he said, his voice more gentle than she had ever heard it. With almost hesitant movement, as if he were touching something sacred, Ron took Hermione's face between his hands, looking intently down into her eyes. "Our fourth year at school was very important. I'll tell you now- I was a complete _arse_ toward you. I admit that," he said, dropping his gaze for a moment. "I made a lot of mistakes that year… one of the biggest of them being that—that I couldn't work up the courage to ask you to the Yule Ball."

"Ron," Hermione whispered, "you don't have to apologize or-"

"No let me finish, please," he said, again extremely gently. "I had never felt more stupid than the moment I saw you standing at the top of those stairs—looking so beautiful that I couldn't…." his face flared red and he smiled a bit, embarrassed, "Blimey… Hermione, I actually couldn't breathe. It's like when you fall on your back, you know? And it just knocks the wind out of you." Hermione laughed breathlessly, placing her hands overtop Ron's on either side of her face, nodding. "Well, I knew even before I saw you that I'd made a mistake… and I'm asking tonight, if you would be willing to let me correct that." He took a deep, shaky breath, stepping back and letting their link hands fall between them. "Hermione, do you think you'd—you'd, um, be willing to go to the Yule Ball with me? As my date?" he asked, shoulders lifted in nervous anticipation.

Shaking off any of her confusion, Hermione only grinned, "Of _course_ I will, Ron."

He let go of the breath he'd held in, "Good then. You'll need these," letting go of her hands, he drew his wand, procuring seemingly from thin air a silver sheet of fabric. He held it out to her. The dress was breathtaking, embroidered with what looked like thread made of actual silver, painting the illusion of moonlight throughout the fabric. It shimmered even in the half-light. Matching ballet shoes lay atop it, resting on Ron's outstretched arm.

"What-" Began Hermione, her eyes bright, but Ron only shook his head, prompting her not to ask.

"Go on—change into that," he urged.

She lifted an eyebrow as she took the clothes from him, "Here?"

Ron rolled his eyes, ears a bit red, "Under the cloak. If you must."

" _Ron,_ " Hermione scolded, hitting his arm with one of the shoes, but her earlier grin was still stuck between her prominent dimples. She ducked under the cloak while walked around a corner. With some difficulty, Hermione was able to change into the stunning gown. It was quite a snug thing and hugged her curves to make them appear prominent. Aside from that, though, it was rather modest—high-necked and with a hem that swept the over the tops of her silver shoes, which were laced up to nearly her mid thigh. With a few taps of her wand, Hermione put up her hair and applied a little makeup to her sleepy face.

When Ron emerged from his corner, he was dressed in elegant dress robes. Hermione was glad for the cloak when she saw him because she could actually feel her eyes dilating. He looked very handsome, dressed in the crisp black and white suit, his hair pushed back into a tidy wave. With a shuttering breath, Hermione took off the cloak.

Ron stared. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he whispered, so quietly she almost hadn't heard. He walked to her, pulling her into his arms and staring down into her face, focusing on her lips for a long moment. Shaking himself a bit, Ron stood up straighter, clearing his throat. "Shall we?"

"I'd love to," Hermione said, biting her lip, "But, Ron, where-"

"Just trust me," he said hastily, lifting his wand. He placed it against his temple, closing his eyes as he drew a silvery strand of something—a wisp between liquid and smoke—from the side of his head. With a gentle, floaty sort of movement, Ron let the memory drift down into the still water of the pensive. Reaching for Hermione's hand, Ron led her to look down into the swirling liquid. Simultaneously, the two leaned forward, touching their lips gently together briefly, before putting their faces directly into the water.

The Yule Ball appeared before them like clouds descending—the fog of them suddenly making shapes that became solid and colorful. The memory was very clear—dancers moved together out on the floor while others stood sulkily at the edge of the room, hoping for someone to dance with.

Ron immediately spotted his memory self, sitting angrily by his unhappy date. But tonight was not about reliving the horrors the dance had caused between he and Hermione. Tonight was about change. Glad for the ability to touch Hermione (as she was real—not just a memory), Ron grabbed her hand. "Come and dance with me," he said confidently.

Leading his beauty out onto the floor, Ron pulled Hermione into his arms sweeping her around the floor to the beat of the music. Every now and then, some of the memory dancers would accidently glide right through them, but this only caused uproarious laughter between the couple. Chatting and giggling about the many younger versions of their companions around them, Ron and Hermione made use of the entire space, sometimes running forward through the people gathered on the floor and giggling until they couldn't breathe. They did not sit down for even a single song, holding each other closely as the music swelled around them. In the middle of the last song, Ron brought his lips down firmly on Hermione's. She sighed into the warmth of his kiss, their lips moving gently, passionately together until the song came to an end.

Hermione pulled her fingers up into Ron's hair, their noses brushing against each other, their breaths quick and shallow. "That," Ron said, "is how it should have been. That's what I should have done."

The memory ended with a whirl of milky fog that faded from around them. There they were again, standing together in the Dumbledore's office, still as breathless as the kiss had left them. Flinging her arms around Ron, Hermione held him tightly, kissing up the side of his neck almost frantically until she got to his ear. He could hear the smile in her voice, "Oh, Ron, _thank you_ for that. You have no idea how much that means to me…"

"It's what you deserved, 'Mione," Ron whispered in return, playing with a stray piece of her hair at her temple. "I'm glad I got to show you now… even though it's much later than I should've done." He leaned back so he could look her in the eyes. "You are heartbreakingly gorgeous. You always have been… it just took me until our fourth year to really notice because I'm thick as dragon's hide," he said, chastising himself with a shake of his head. "But you are, Hermione… the most beautiful woman I have ever known or ever hope to see. Not only that—you're graceful and full of light… and that is the fourth reason why I am very much in love with you." He pulled her back into his arm, holding her close against his chest.

"I love you too, Ron," Hermione said, her voice strained with the urge to cry.

"Well, that's a relief," he said, laughing a bit at the tears in his eyes. "Come on, now. It's getting late. We have a few more things to see tonight."

 **Reviews = Encouragement**


	6. Chapter 6

**I apologize for the lateness of this update. Chapters seven and eight (and maybe a bonus chapter depending on what you all think) will be up very soon!**

The Fifth Reason

Ron didn't ask before hitching Hermione up onto his back, her dress blanketing their form as they slipped out into the night again. Somewhat grumpy from the sudden piggyback ride, but fighting a smile, Hermione clung desperately to Ron's neck. He was quite tall and her fear of heights was woken a little in her belly.

"Where are we going?" she asked, agitated, into his ear. "It freezing."

"Hush you, stop complaining," he said, letting go of her leg, which was wrapped tightly around his midsection, to rummage in his pockets. He handed up a small vile. "Drink that."

"What is it?" she said, trying to make out the label in the darkness.

"Just drink it, 'Mione. It's not poison," he said, laughing at her suspicion. "I was going to save it for later, but I think you need it."

Stubborn, but curious, Hermione screwed up her lips and then uncorked the bottle and sniffed the contents. The liquid inside was strong, but welcoming. She lifted it to her lips and drafted a sip from the glass rim. Fire Whiskey. It burned pleasantly down her throat and into her midsection, warming her skin right down through her toes and fingers. "Mmm," she hummed softly in his ear.

"Sheesh 'Mione," Ron said, adjusting her higher on his back. "Giving me chills whispering into my ear like that."

She giggled, a little light-headed and pressed her lips to his ear, blowing softly. He shuddered and glared loving up at her before almost tripping. She laughed and snuggled down into his neck, sighing. "Are we almost there?"

"We're here," he said gently. She looked up, surprised. Around them, stood the lofty towers of the Quidditch pitch, adorned in the different house colors. "I made the team during our fifth year, but it didn't really work out how I thought it would. 'Weasley is our King' and all that…" for a moment he trailed off, looking disgruntled, but Hermione reached around and touched his cheek, softly concerned, and he smiled, shrugging away the bitter memory. Setting Hermione down on the grass, he turned to look at her.

He took her hands in his large ones, rubbing them warm. "This one is a little different. This is not something that happened, exactly, but something I always wanted to happen. But I need you to trust me. More than usual. Alright?"

"Alright, Ron, but what-" but Ron didn't let her finish her sentence. Stooping quickly, he picked up a broom she hadn't seen before. He was astride it in a moment, reaching a hand for her. She closed her eyes tightly, not liking the direction this was headed, but took his hand anyway. He pulled her gently up onto the broom, seating her in front of him. She clung her hands back into his shirt and he chuckled lightly, looping his arms around her and tilting the broom upward. The night air rushed around them and Hermione gulped it in as it passed, trying to contain the scream in her chest. The ride was short-lived though, the broom stopping at the middle of the left-most keeper rings.

Securing an arm around her waist, Ron grabbed Hermione firmly as he stood them up on the broom's thin handle and the stepped into the hoop, shooting a hovering charm at the broom simultaneously. Trying not to laugh, Ron gently sat down, balancing on the metal hoop until his back was curved with it and tugged Hermione to sit in his lap.

"Comfy?" he asked, smirking.

"You know I hate heights," she said, angry at the way she had to cling to his shoulders and neck.

"You don't have to be scared," he murmured, rubbing his hand down her back. "I've got you. Besides, I've enchanted the broom to catch us if we fall."

"You better have a good reason for dragging me up here Ronald Weasley."

"I do, I swear," he laughed, trying to pull up into a sitting position. "Look around for me. Look up."

Hesitantly, Hermione pulled away, letting the night sky look her full in the face. The stars were bright up above, the mountains in the distance cupping the splendor like a bowl of pure, dark water.

"I used to come up here all the time—even before I was made Keeper. I would just think… especially about you. It wasn't something I could talk to Harry about. Fifth year is when it became the worst. I just wanted to do something impressive—be something worth your while. And at the same… I didn't want to admit to myself that I had a thing for you. Anyway, it was here that I started to realize exactly why I wanted to play Quidditch… why I ever tried on my exams or even made an effort to go to classes. It wasn't for Mum or Dad. It was for you. You made me want to be a better man. And now, that's truer than ever. My every effort, Mione, is for you. You make me want to be the best I can—not only that, you make me believe I can be. And that, Hermione Jean Granger, is the fifth reason why I am desperately in love with you."

Hermione forgot all about her fear of heights in that moment, her eyes full with brimming, happy tears. She pressed her body forward to rest against Ron's, her heart warm with love and Fire Whiskey. His lips tasted warm like they always did, but there was a heat behind this time that kindled something new in her. Her hands ran through his hair and his held securely to her sides, and then glided up and down her body. He paused, looking into her eyes before kissing her passionately. She squeaked, surprised and pleased, before melting into the kiss again. Ron, eager to feel her closer, tugged Hermione nearer to his chest, but the movement was too much for the delicate balance he had achieved in the slim arch of the Keeper's hoop. They tumbled, one after the other into the darkness below.

Ron still had careful hold of Hermione's waist and grabbed the broom firmly before they had dropped more than a few feet. Gently, the broom lowered them to sand pit below, their feet touching down softly.

"You alright?" Ron asked, letting go of the broom to look at Hermione's face.

"Never better," she answered, her heart racing from more than the fall.


	7. Chapter 7

The Sixth Reason

Any sleepiness had officially fled from Hermione's wide eyes as they reentered the castle. She had sensed the pattern by the third reason Ron had shared and had begun to wonder where this was all leading to, but he hardly gave her a moment to think. His hand was tight in hers, the cloak forgotten and reckless abandon ignited in their hearts, breath heavy in their lungs as they ran.

They stopped in the middle of the echoey entrance way and Ron tugged her somewhat roughly into his chest and he held her closely, rocking on the stone and checking nervously around for any sign of lantern or lit wand. The castle was asleep. All the same, he took the precaution of leaning down to whisper into her ear before speaking.

The warmth of his breath tickled the side of his neck as spoke, "Sixth year, I may not have acted like it, but I was crazy about you. I was a bloody coward, not asking you out. Instead, I made my mistakes. Only good thing that came of it was finding out just how incredibly unique you are. There's no one like you, Mione. You're smart _and_ beautiful. You've got a heart that… that's completely taken mine over." He blushed red hot, embarrassed at his own words. "It's the sixth reason why I love you… so very much," he said simply. "And that's why I should have done this a long time ago."

He took her shoulders to gently pushing her back a bit to search her eyes with his bright blue ones, still red right up to his ears. "Would you go on a date with me?"

"Hasn't this been-" she asked quietly, trying to stifle a laugh.

"No, an official date. Would have dinner with me?"

"I'd love to, Ron," she answered, breathlessly. She had never taken him as the type to perform such romantic gestures. Hermione, perhaps not a tradition girl, was still female and appreciate the words and the magic feeling her heart produced by each moment tonight had ignited.

"Thank Merlin," he murmured. "Scary as hell asking a girl out."

"You're an idiot," she laughed, smacking his arm.

"Ouch," he complained. "Maybe I've changed my mind."

Hermione laughed, throwing herself into his arms and turning her face to bury into his neck. Her lips found the soft skin their, gently kissing her way up to his jaw. His face was full of gravity once she reached his lips. She hesitated before kissing him, causing a soft sort of growl in the back of his throat before pulling her in close to him for a deep kiss. When they broke apart, he looked dazed.

"You can hit me all you like if that's how you apologize," he said, half coherently. He shook himself, "C'mon. Let's get going on our date, shall we?"

"Right now?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yes, right now. Come on," he said, grabbing her around the waist and whisking them both off toward the Great Hall.

Instead of the four rows of massive tables that usually sat in the vast room, there was a single, elegant table in the center of the room under a sky full candles and stars, the room lit at a low light.

Winky the house elf stood at the edge of the table, dressed in a lovely black dress, made to her size. Hermione shot Ron an anxious look, but he only smiled broadly, clearly proud of himself, "Mum made her the dress—and I'm paying her generously. She's very excited about this, trust me."

Hermione's eyes glowed happily as she sat down, Ron pulling her chair back for her to sit. Before them was laid out a miniature feast, above it, two slender glasses brim full with sparkling, golden liquid.

"I figured you would have been cramming for exams earlier tonight and skived off dinner," Ron said, taking his seat. "So, I arranged for all of your favorites to be made."

"Ron, this is beautiful," Hermione whispered, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "I couldn't ask for a better date."

"It's pretty good, right?" he couldn't help asking, his grin deep and boyish. "Well, dig in. We have to see a couple more things after this," he prompted just as Winky snapped her fingers, bringing a soft melody to life in the quiet of the room.

Despite his best efforts to act like a gentleman while he ate, a few stray noodles still fell into Ron's lap and a bit of sauce ended up on his chin. Hermione laughed as they ate and talked quietly, the golden liquid (and a bit of Fire Whiskey later on) making them light-headed and braver for what was to come.


	8. Chapter 8

**The last chapter is finally here! I apologize for the lateness and, as usual, for any grammar/spelling errors. Enjoy!**

The Seventh Reason

Toward the end of their meal, Ron became increasingly quiet, cutting his food into small portions and chewing slowly. Hermione let her own voice fill the quiet, talking about their evening, classes, and finals. In her mind, though, her thoughts strayed to secret places of hope and anticipation. Her hands shook slightly when she picked up her glass to drink and, mid-sentence, she felt Ron reach out to steady it.

He stood, his eyes locked on hers and offered his hand. It was large and rough, encasing her small one completely. Leaning down, he placed a fire whiskey kiss on her lips, softly and pulled her up gently.

"Thank you for the dinner, Winky." His voice was sincere and gentle, directed toward the elegantly dressed house-elf, but his bright blue eyes still completed focused on Hermione's. Winky bowed herself out, a pleased, lopsided smile on her odd little face.

"Come with me?" Ron asked, almost a whisper in the silence of the great hall. Hermione's head bobbed, once, in reply and they walked together, each step full of gravity.

Outside the castle, Ron reached inside his pocket and revealed the diluminator, clicking it once. Suddenly the courtyard was aglow with spheres of light in glass mason jars, suspended in the darkness. They walked together, the warmth of the lights cascading down on their linked form. Leading them far out on the grounds, the trail of lights formed a path for them to follow. Eventually, they came up to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Ron, I don't think we should go in there," Hermione murmured, her fear of breaking school rules the only thing that gave her pause. There was nothing in that forest that could actually scare her. Not now.

"Trust me," Ron smiled, breaking a bit of the tension that had started to consume them both. Together, they pushed past the branches onto a path, still following the dots of warm light guiding them deeper in.

Eventually, the path led into a clearing—an almost perfect circle of tree—hung generously with dim fairy lights and a spiral of light jars. The earth beneath it was covered in half bloomed flowers, fragrant and magically unharmed by their feet. The wash of color was overwhelming and flooded Hermione with an appreciation of beauty that she did not often allow in her sensible soul. As if from deep in the forest, stringed instruments played softly.

"Did you do this?" Hermione asked, turning back to Ron as she had unwittingly wandered away from the touch of his hand.

"Hagrid and Professor Sprout helped," Ron smiled. "Flitwick too."

"This is incredible," Hermione laughed, running back to him and throwing herself in his arms. At the moment of their embrace, the fairy lights doubled in brightness and the music swelled. All around them, the flowers burst into full bloom. When she pressed her lips to his, their environment positively glowed and buzzed with the beauty around them, golden winged butterflies lazily floating in from the tree branches.

Smiling to widely too maintaining the pressure of their lips on the other's, the two took a step back from each other, the beauty still powerfully overwhelming the space.

"What are we doing here? What's the story?" Hermione asked.

"There isn't one yet, actually. But it seemed fitting. You taught me to brave—you gave me something to be brave for… And so I used those spells you used when we were on the run to create this little safe place for us, in the midst of chaos. Thought it was a good analogy of our relationship," Ron explained, turning increasingly red. "Corny?"

"Perfect," Hermione hummed, pulling him in closer.

"I—uh—I have something for you," Ron murmured clumsily, his face crimson to the ears. "It's right over—well. One second." He fished out his wand and pointed it toward the hallow of the tree nearest them. "Wingardium Levios _a_ ," he ordered, with a flick. Nothing happened.

Hermione looked up at him curiously. "Ron it's… it's Levi _o_ sa… Not Levios _a._ You know that… Here let me," she said gently and smiled in his goofy, pleased way when she pointed her own wand at the hollow, correctly pronouncing the levitation spell, in her crisp, student's voice, "Wingardium Leviosa."

A small circlet rose from the trunk, shimmering silver in the golden light all around them. On the top of the ring, a bright diamond positively shone out, modest, but stunning. With a sharp breath, Hermione drop her wand, and the ring dropped into the mess of flowers below it.

Ron's laugh was gentle, " _Accio,"_ he commanded softly. When Hermione turned back to him, he was down on one knee.

"When I talked to your dad about all this, he told me that he'd known I'd be asking him for his blessing since the day you came home from your first term at school. Everyone—besides us—saw how we belonged together. I'm sure it was relief for pretty much everyone we know when we finally had the courage to admit our feelings to each other. Hermione? I don't want to waste another second being oblivious to the most gorgeous, intelligent, incredible witch I've ever known. I want you to give you my all and show the world that we are committed to each other and no one else. That's why I'm asking you now, Mione. I know I won't get lucky twice—If I don't do something to make sure that no one else takes you, then they definitely will. You're too precious a heart not to be swept up by anyone who catches a glimpse of it."

"Oh Ron," Hermione choked out, gripping one of his hands and getting down on her knees beside him.

He laughed with tears bright in his eyes, "Hermione, you've put up with me when I was horrible toward you. You were my best friend when I was oblivious, stubborn, and unkind. You constantly forgive me. Now that I finally realize how much you mean to me, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for all those years. I know I'm a difficult person… So I'm asking you… put up with me, Mione, for the rest of my life? I swear to love you every second of it. I guess what I'm asking is… Hermione Jean Granger, will you be my wife?"

"Yes, I will," Hermione whispered and he slipped the ring gently onto her finger, where it sat fittingly on her elegant hand. She stared at it for a moment, blushing and then falling into his arms and hugging him around the neck. "You know, I'm not exactly easy either, Ron. Are you sure about this?"

"I know you're not easy. And that is the seventh reason why I love you and will always love you. I had to fight to win you, Mione. Fight our many obstacles, fight myself. And I'm not going to stop fighting. Because you are worth every second of it and so much more." He gently grabbed a fistful of her long, bushy hair, cradling her close to him.

She leaned back with her hands on his chest, "I love you, Ronald Weasley."

"Bloody hell, that's a relief," he laughed, helping her to stand up. She rolled her eyes up at him, placing a kiss on his rosy cheek. "C'mon. Let's get you back to the castle." As they walked away, the lights gently dimmed behind them, their hands twined together as they walked out of the forest.

 **Hope you all enjoyed this! Comment and let me know if you would like to see a follow up chapter to this.**


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